Second Chance
by LadySwish17
Summary: Part 1 - John gets a second chance to make things right. Part 2 - Sam and Dean have to take care of their new little brother. Part 3 - John reveals some heartbreaking news to Dean, who has to relay it to Sam.
1. Part 1

As Dean paced back and forth across the floor, John could swear he could see steam literally coming from his ears. He knew Dean was going to be upset, but not to the point that he would punch a hole through the paper-thin walls of the crappy motel the Winchester boys were taking refuge in.

"What the fuck…" was all Dean could say before he shut down and started pacing again. John could hear the wheels in his head going, could hear the swear words streaming in a long sentence that kept repeating with very little changes.

Sam, on the other hand, had said nothing. Just sat in a chair and retreated to the world inside his head, same thing he had done when he was a kid. Try as John might, he couldn't read Sam as well as he could Dean. Which didn't surprise him. When he did finally speak, "You were barely there for Dean and I," his voice was almost a whisper, but it rang loud and clear in John's ears. "What makes you think you'll be there for Trevor?"

John glanced over at the little boy asleep on the bed to John's left. It had been a long since John had given anyone the slightest time of day, let alone a woman. But there had been something different about Lori, a glow he hadn't seen since Mary. He had spent four months with Lori, recuperating after a hunt that left him with more than a few bruises, cuts, and scrapes, each that Lori helped heal. Over time, he and Lori had become close, much more than John normally allowed. And after their first time in bed together, John had almost called out Mary's name, but Lori had understood. And then John had to leave, another demon of hell was waiting to be killed. Again, Lori understood.

When John heard from Lori again, he learned two things. One, she was sick and, two, well, she had asked to see him once more to explain something to him. When he got there, Lori was looking pale and gaunt, not the same glowing woman who had reminded him of his wife. She was dying and once again, John felt the familiar ache in his chest. Sitting next to her was a little boy a year old, with blonde hair like Dean's and eyes that immediately reminded him so much of Sam's--innocent and pure. John knew immediately, before Lori said anything, that the little boy was his.

John spent another three months with them before Lori died on a sunless day. Trevor was too young to fully understand what was going on, but knew that Mommy was no longer around. So John took him along, wondering when the right time to tell his older sons would be.

John watched Trevor snuggle up to a small teddy bear John had given him, one that had belonged to Sam when he was around Trevor's age. Sam's question resonated in his head. He knew he couldn't answer it. But the more he looked at Trevor, the more he knew this time, everything was going to be better. He'd get a chance to be what he couldn't be to either Dean or Sam--a father.

The End.

© 2006


	2. Part 2

Dean lie on his back, his mind going too fast for him to concentrate on the random television show that was on. Dad. The man with serious tunnel vision and a thousand secrets up his sleeve. The man who never so much as looked at another woman in _that_ way after Sam's and his mother died met someone else. Not only that, had a kid by her as well. Dean didn't know whether to be surprised or disgusted. Hell, there was part of him that wanted to pat the old man on the back. Say _"Welcome back to life,"_ or something like that.

But the other part of him was, for a lack of a better term, jealous. The day after revealing the truth to Sam and Dean about Trevor and Lori, there had been a change in John. Dean had seen it. The same pain about Mary remained there, but there was a glow in John's face that Dean had never seen before. It was there every time he played with Trevor, or talked to him, or even just watched him. There was no talk of demons, or guns, or even the cursing Sam and Dean had grown up around. There was no talk of needing to keep moving, stay one step ahead of the law and a step behind the Demon's trail. There was just soft voices and lots of laughter.

And here he and Sam were, trying to get this little boy, their newfound brother, to go to sleep while John was out on a quick hunt. A hunt that Dean knew shouldn't be taking as long as it was. A hunt that he had wanted to help out on, but couldn't. All because of Trevor.

"Dammit!" Dean yelled, jumping up suddenly and startling Trevor, starting him up crying.

"Nice going, Dean," Sam glared at his older brother. He had spent the last hour trying to calm Trevor down enough to get him to sleep. He would be damned if he spent another one doing the same thing. Sam looked at the clock. It was almost midnight. They had a long day ahead of them and needed their sleep.

"If the demon he's hunting doesn't kill Dad, I will!" Dean paced back and forth from one end of the room to the other. "It's not fair, Sammy! Dad comes back here with a kid and all of a sudden, he's off hunting and we're pulling diaper duty for a kid we barely know!"

Sam tried rocking Trevor back to sleep, but the toddler wasn't falling for it. "Dean, you're scaring Trevor." He rocked Trevor faster, even pat him on the back, but nothing worked. Trevor kept crying, going higher and higher in pitch. Sam flinched, holding him away from his ears. "Here," he got up and placed Trevor in Dean's arms. "I'm going to the gas station for more milk. Maybe that'll put him to sleep."

Dean looked from Trevor to Sam. "What the hell am I supposed to do with him?"

Sam slipped on his jacket and made sure he had enough money in his pocket. "I don't know. Sing to him, talk to him. Just keep him quiet before he wakes up the rest of the motel. I'll be back." He snagged the car keys from the dresser and walked out, leaving a crying toddler and a fuming Dean behind him.

"Sing to him? What the hell am I supposed to sing to him?" Dean racked his brain for songs, coming up with only one song that stuck out. "All right, kid. Here's goes nothing. Hope you like Metallica."

"_Say your prayers little one _

_Don't forget my son_

_To include everyone_

_I tuck you in_

_warm within_

_Keep you free from sin_

_'til the sandman he comes _

_Sleep with one eye open_

_Gripping your pillow tight…"_

Bouncing Trevor along to the beat, Dean noticed he was staring at him with big brown eyes. _Just like Sam used to when he was little,_ he thought, a smile creeping up on his face.

"_Exit light_

_Enter night_

_Take my hand _

_off to never never land…"_

By the time Dean got to the second verse, Trevor was curled up against his shoulder, thumb in his mouth and fast asleep. "Just like Sammy," Dean chuckled. He rocked Trevor while he hummed the rest of the song. A knock at the door followed by the sound of Sam's voice caught his attention. As John opened the door, Sam stepped through and looked surprised at the sight of Dean holding a sleeping Trevor in his arms. "Wow. Y-you got him asleep." Sam set a plastic bag with a small jug of milk on the dresser, keeping his eyes on Dean.

"About time you both got back," Dean put on his best pissed off face as he set Trevor down on the bed and covered him.

"Yeah, but…you hate kids." Sam shook his head in confusion. "Why are you so good with them if you hate them?"

"Sammy, I tell you all the time, but you never believe me. I am a man of many gifts."

As Sam took off his jacket, Dean caught sight of his father, a knowing smile on his face.

The End.

© 2006


	3. Part 3

This hunt had a been a particularly vicious one, taking a toll on the both of them in all ways and left four innocent people dead -- including the possessed person that had committed the deeds. Despite that, neither Dean nor John let out the slightest moan of pain on the drive back to the motel.

Instead of taking the second exit heading towards the motel, John swung his truck off the first exit and headed straight for a little backwater roadhouse he knew of. Even though he was slightly curious, Dean said nothing.

They pulled outside the roadhouse and John parked, turning off the ignition and letting out a small grunt. "Come on," John coughed, tasting the blood rising up in his throat. "Let's get a drink."

The roadhouse was nearly empty, save a few loyal customers, the bartender, and a waitress. There was a jukebox against the wall, lights flashing to gain attention. A dart board with a single dart sticking out of it hung next to a pay phone near the men's room door. Old memorabilia, photographs, and a few state license plates decorated the wooden walls, giving the place a rustic feel.

Choosing a dark spot in the corner booth - with a good view of the door - they ordered a couple of beers from the waitress, who started to flirt shamelessly with them. Her smile faltered when she saw a few bloodstains, old and fresh, on John's jacket.

Seeing worry setting in her eyes, John patted the stains with his hand and shrugged. "Hunting. Bagged us a good one." His voice was hoarse and it took a lot of him just to say it.

"Ah," she said, nodding her head as she departed.

When she came back, she set the beers on coasters, gave Dean a small wink and smile, and after John paid her, went to another table.

John watched Dean scan his surroundings, absorbing everything and everyone in. _Just like I taught him,_ thought John.

"Well," Dean broke the silence, taking a pull from his beer and sighing. His face flickered a moment as pain went through his body, making him sharply hiss. "This is a lovely father and son outing, though we're missing two more sons of yours to make this a full Winchester party. And as much as I'm enjoying it and this beer," he turned his head slowly, glancing at the waitress for a second before looking back at John. "And the atmosphere, Dad, why are we here?"

"Dean," John ran his thumb over the cool bottle, watching as a drop of condensation ran down the side. "I've been doing some thinking."

Dean stiffened at those words, knowing that John's mind was already set.

"I'm going to call Missouri and have her take Trevor."

"What?"

"I'm taking Trevor to Missouri's and I'm going to have him stay with her."

"Dad, no."

John finally looked at Dean, a moment of disbelief washing over his face. "What did you say, son?"

Dean took a deep breath. "Dad, you can't just dump Trevor off--"

"I'm not dumping him off. I'm taking him someplace safe, out of harm's way."

"Safe? He wouldn't be safer with her. He'd be safer with us. At least we have guns, holy water, things that could kill any demonic son of a bitch that came our way. Can Missouri say that?" A cell phone rang and for a moment, Dean thought Missouri had psychically heard him and was calling him to curse him out.

John began coughing, his chest rattling as his coughs increased and pain from his bruises jolted through his body. He took a swig of beer, feeling the cool liquid rush down his chest and into his stomach. Licking his lips, he set the beer on the coaster and took a moment to breathe. "Dean," he said before clearing his throat. "Son, I know how you feel--"

"Dad--"

"Dean." John's voice dropped down in a warning. Respectfully, Dean closed his mouth.

"I know how you feel, I really do. And in case you may have forgotten, we're in the middle of a war and son, we're losing. The three of us, we cannot watch over a toddler. What happens if something happens to us in the middle of a hunt? What happens if one or both of us die while fighting? What happens if whatever we're hunting uses Trevor to get at us? What happens if that yellow-eyed son of a bitch..." John swallowed his anger back down. "There are too many what ifs, too many things that can happen. He has to be safe."

Dean looked away, watching the waitress walk from table to table. Occasionally she'd glance his way before returning her attention to her customers.

"And if something happens--to me, to you or Sam," John paused to lick his lips. "I'm going to ask if she'll put him up for adoption."

Stunned, Dean stared with his mouth agape. "Dad--"

John held up his hand to quiet Dean's protests. "I already know what you're gonna say, but it has to be done, Dean. I'm sorry."

Dean said nothing else, turning his head away and watched the bar patrons in stony silence. The sounds of the roadhouse getting louder as more people shuffled in. John drank the rest of his beer, pushing the bottle away from him.

"Dad?"

John looked at Dean, who still didn't return eye contact.

"Did you ever want to do that with us? With Sam and me? Just give us up?"

John said nothing at first, choosing his words carefully. "At first, no. You boys were all I had left of your mother. But...there were times when I thought you and your brother...should not be with me. I didn't want to see either of you get hurt or --" John paused. "And I didn't want you to see I was hurt from hunting. And when I was asked if it would be better if you and Sam were...someplace else, I almost said yes."

The silence between them returned and John felt no better telling Dean the truth than if he had lied.

"Ready to go?" John asked, already easing out of his seat.

Dean took another swig from his bottle and eased out also. John left a tip for the waitress, who gave a small frown when Dean didn't acknowledge her when he left.

The air outside the roadhouse was sticky with humidity, but Dean took a deep breath, wincing at the pain in his sides. When he heard John behind him, he walked carefully to the truck and got in. By the time John slid in, Dean was already wearing his seatbelt and waiting. Once again, the drive was silent.

Their muscles aching for rest, John went to his room next door and Dean went to his and Sam's, hobbling inside the motel room and was immediately hit with cool air from the air conditioner. He slowly slipped out his jacket and laid it over the back of the chair.

Sam sat on the bed next to Trevor and said nothing, just watched Dean snatch up the aspirin from the first aid kit on the dresser and struggle with the cap, grumbling how the child-proof cap was really Superman-proof.

"Dammit!" Dean cursed, tossing the aspirin bottle towards Sam, who caught it with one hand. "Dude, open that for me."

Sam stood up and popped open the cap, shaking out two pills and walked over, handing them to Dean.

Dean popped the pills in his mouth, hobbling over to the small sink and getting a cup of water. "Sam," he said after swallowing the pills. "Come outside with me."

Furrowing his brow, Sam looked over at Trevor, who was still sleeping peacefully, before following Dean out. They walked towards the Impala, where it still sat in its' space for the past eight hours collecting beads of water from the moisture in the air.

Dean stopped and faced Sam. "Sam, how much do you trust Dad?"

Confused, Sam stared at Dean. "W-what?"

"How much do you trust Dad?" Dean repeated.

"Dean, what's going on?" Sam tried to read his brother's face and eyes, but couldn't.

"Do you trust him to do the right thing?"

"Dean, tell me."

Dean took a breath and licked his dry lips. "Dad is sending Trevor to live with Missouri."

"What? He can't!" Sam practically yelled. "He can't dump Trevor off like that. He's our brother."

"He's not dumping him. He's taking him someplace safe."

"Dean, he's dumping him!"

"HE'S TRYING TO KEEP HIM SAFE, DAMMIT!" Dean yelled, closing his eyes and wincing as he grasped at his sides. "All he wants to do is keep him safe, Sam." He said softly. "That's all Dad wants."

"Dean," Sam said, his voice nearly at a hush. "He's our brother. We just met him, just got to know him...I just learned what his favorite food is."

"I know."

"Then how can you go along with this?"

"Because in case you've forgotten, we're in the middle of a war and we are losing. The three of us don't exactly have the ability to watch our backs and watch over a kid, too." Dean sighed in annoyance.

"I know, but--"

"What if something happens, Sam? Huh? What happens if we're on a hunt and we get hurt? What happens if we die, Sam? Huh?" Dean pointed towards the motel. "We're not exactly living it up on easy street, you know."

"But it worked tonight! You and Dad went hunting while I stayed with Trevor. It's been that way for awhile now and it's worked!" Sam knew he was grasping at straws now, but he didn't care. "Next time, it'll be me and Dad while you stay with Trevor. Dean, this can _work_!" Sam pressed, but Dean shook his head.

"Remember how it was growing up? How much you hated the life and got out first chance you got? Would you want that for Trevor? Resenting Dad? Me? You? We're hunters, Sammy. Pure and simple. We go after demons and they come after us. There's no way we can take care of Trevor living the life we lead. Especially not with that yellow-eyed demon after us."

Deep down, Sam knew every word Dean said was true. It didn't mean he had to like it, however. "So what now?"

Dean sighed. "Nothing. Dad'll take Trevor to stay with Missouri while we do what we do best." He hesitated for a moment before telling Sam the rest of the plan. "And if something happens to us, she'll put Trevor up for adoption."

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but stopped. "Dammit," he said instead, turning around and walking back towards the motel room.

Dean stood silently, his jaw clenching tight as a bead of sweat ran down his back. It wasn't right, but then again, nothing in the Winchester life was. He made his way back to the motel door and went inside to be with his two younger brothers, one for the last time.

There was a sudden gust of wind that blew through the parking lot and from the dark stepped a shadowy figure, standing boldly under the parking lot light. One that kept tabs on the Winchesters for its' own purposes.

"And baby makes four," the Yellow-Eyed Demon said as his eyes flashed. "How interesting." He chuckled.

He smelled the air, felt the charms and protection spells radiating against him from both rooms, keeping him away. "How interesting indeed."

A smile crept over his face as he stepped back into the shadows. He'd have to meet the newest member of the family. The one they called Trevor.

The End.

© 2008


End file.
